


third wheel

by tanyart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Buffoonery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: Aunor finds herself at an unusual rendezvous point with the Drifter.
Relationships: The Drifter & Aunor Mahal, The Drifter/Shin Malphur
Comments: 13
Kudos: 129





	third wheel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a "kiss on the nose" prompt on twitter and... it got long. Again.
> 
> eta: possibly a loose fanfic of [one step ahead of a losing game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678532) by beastofthesky. I am into the idea of Drifter and Aunor being some kinda... friends, maybe. Friends, in the loosest sense of the word.

The Warlock Aunor of the Praxic Order sits on the balcony area of a rooftop patio. Her impeccably set table looks more done up than her current outfit, though she refuses to feel underdressed in this City-view restaurant. Nothing wrong with her black duster or her equally black shader. Her Warlock bond is shining bright and that’s good enough.

The rectangular table is set for three. She had taken the side opposite of the two plates, so that she can have one side to herself. She’s early; the first pick is hers and she decides to show a little grace for it.

Truth be told, Aunor expects to be stood up. She expects to wait like a fool while the waiters throw her curious looks and politely inquire if she’d like to start with something to drink — water? Tea? A cocktail? A shot of their house whiskey?

To her infinite surprise, her wayward informant arrives just on time, his plus one in tow.

Drifter looks smug as a cat, and Shin himself looks pleased right up until the host ushers them to their table — which, of course, is Aunor’s table.

Drifter still looks like a smug bastard. Shin, meanwhile, looks at Aunor then slowly at Drifter, and Aunor gets to see the sheer depth of Shin’s patience and control by the way his expression closes off.

“You said we were just gonna do dinner,” Shin says to Drifter, but he smoothly takes a seat opposite of Aunor with a nod, and nudges the last chair out for Drifter with his boot, real gentleman-like. He’s _dressed,_ Aunor notes. They both are — Shin in a flattering dark jacket and trousers, and Drifter in a classic robe made within the last decade. No Guardian markers, cloak or otherwise, on either of them.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t give me that,” Drifter crows, sliding into his chair, “You know I like the efficiency of doing business and pleasure together and,” he pauses for nauseating, dramatic effect, “Miss Aunor, it’s a _pleasure_ to see you here.”

Oh, Traveler. So she is to finally witness Drifter’s demise, and it won’t be by her hand.

Shin mutters the same time Aunor rolls her eyes. The waiter sets down three waters and a pot of tea. Shin grimly orders the house whiskey for himself, and flashes his ID before the waiter can ask.

“I’ll be the business side of things, thank you,” Aunor says, but after a moment, she gestures to them both. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, you two are...”

Shin now looks unhappy to be here, without question. His voice comes out brisk and matter-of-fact; “Fucking? Yeah.”

“ _Together_ ,” she corrects with a light emphasis that seems to make Shin’s frown more prominent. Good. “A little more than casual bed partners, I think.”

“Could be, could be,” Drifter drawls, and Aunor narrows her eyes. _Drifter_ is the one she has to watch out for. He looks at ease, flippant and smiling, which she immediately pegs as suspicious. He’s up to something, more than the usual. “You find that so hard to believe?”

“Well. Yeah,” Aunor says, blunt as a Titan’s fist. But, who knows, maybe two insufferable people can make it work. With the tactful grace to avoid saying _that_ out loud, she takes the initiative and pours the three of them tea — well. She’s probably younger than either of them in any case.

“You wound my poor fragile heart,” Drifter says with all the glib of someone who doesn’t have much of one to begin with. “Hey, Shin.”

“What?” Shin turns, and stops short when Drifter leans in to deliver a peck right on Shin’s nose.

Drifter grins, facing Aunor again. “Y’see?”

Shin’s expression, if anything, is a far cry from being charmed, or elated, or very enamored. He looks one part indignant, one part disbelief, and several parts annoyed. Aunor additionally wonders on what working scale Drifter thinks acting a couple might be.

“Performative affection isn’t going to win you any points with me,” she says, watching with a sense of pity as Drifter takes Shin’s hand.

Drifter’s lip curls. His eyes flick towards Shin and back at her again. “Who says I’m tryin’ to win points from _you?_ ”

Interestingly, Shin doesn’t pull his hand away, even when the waiter drops by with his whiskey. If this is all an act, Aunor can only conclude that it is very bizarre, and exhausting, with mixed signals, and not very well-thought out between the two of them.

And what’s there for Drifter to gain by making her believe they’re _together_?

Aunor sips her tea. On her second sip, she’s hit with the realization that Drifter might actually have _the_ Renegade Hunter, Shin Malphur himself, wrapped around his dirty fingers, physically and figuratively—and not from any leverage, or blackmail, or bribing. And if this is his way of showing it, then…

“Huh,” says Aunor, very thoughtfully.

Shin shuts his eyes like a guilty man caught with a smoking gun. “Miss Aunor,” he says, opening his eyes again and looking like he’s disappointed that his surroundings hadn’t miraculously changed, “Are you here to do your job, or to give unsolicited relationship advice?”

Drifter’s still smiling, still scheming, hand over Shin’s like it’s all part of his plan. Shin just looks tired and no longer surprised. Resigned, even. His thumb sweeps over Drifter’s knuckles.

Suddenly, Aunor feels very sorry for Shin. Unsolicited relationship advice could be what’s really needed, at this point.

But, she has her job, and she is feeling very much the third wheel here; “Drifter, you had information.”

“That I do,” Drifter hums, letting go of Shin’s hand. (Shin makes a grab for his whiskey shot and drains it immediately.) He waves his Ghost to produce a datapad on the table for her.

“Thank you,” she says, and then gulps down the rest of her tea, stately Warlock habits be damned. She doesn’t want to spend another second here.

“Leaving already?” Shin asks, surprised but not sounding too beat up about it.

Drifter, on the other hand, is starting to look a touch anxious, watching her. Aunor is hit with her second realization of the night.

“Word of advice for you, Drifter,” she says as she stands. She leans close to Drifter’s ear, but isn’t too fussed about Shin overhearing, “Performative affection isn’t going to win any points with _him_ either.” She leans closer — this time so Shin can’t hear; “And relax, if you’re nervous about fucking up your date, don’t worry. You already have.”

Drifter’s jaw falls open. He shuts it. His face turns a neat shade blotchy red.

“You don’t need _me_ here,” Aunor says, sweetly, with the satisfaction of watching an agonizingly slow Novabomb drift its way towards a cornered Invader in a Gambit match. She bows in perfect form before taking her leave. “Be brave, Guardian.” She glances at Shin. “My condolences, Shin. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Now wait a minute,” Drifter sputters, but Aunor’s faster than a blink.

She hears Shin’s barking laughter all the way out the door.


End file.
